Moving On

We didn't come to live here to invest,
in stock or build net worth for money's sake
I didn't bring my fledglings here to nest
imagining the course that life would take.

Yet, lashes have been shaved from window panes
fresh paint has been applied in dull, drab tints.
The scarred up, rocking chair with grape juice stains
is gone with photographs and fingerprints.

Thin, desperate echoes pace across these walls
and trip the strings that bind our anxious hearts
and voices follow us in our footfalls
that lead to soulful, raw, uncertain starts.

The morrow feels as if it's far away,
though darkness boldly climbs along my spine
our things all packed to move without delay,
the things we often touched and declared "mine"...

...but what was "mine" was here within this place;
unseen, untouched, unknown to any hands
as smiling comfort smoothing each small face
that now, in leaving, can not understand

that working hard won't always be enough
to keep your dreams conditioned and alive
and even things more valuable than stuff
can't always make transitions and survive...

These lessons I don't want to teach or learn,
this ache I wonder if I can endure
with hollow smiles that can't defeat the burn
of fear that comes from being so unsure

of how much worth a callous or dream
can really have in monetary schemes.

Copyright © Jean Marble | Year Posted 2009

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